Page 15 of Connor's Claim
He worked his jaw then pointed to a wardrobe. “For now, I’ll keep ye here.”
I climbed from the bed and opened it, taking out hangers to arrange my clothes next to his. He had a couple of suits, plus built-in shelves which housed jeans and plain shirts. One on the bottom captured my attention, and I pulled it free. It was the rock band t-shirt he’d worn the first time I ever saw him.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I sensed him right behind me. He reached around and plucked the shirt from my grip, placing it once again on the shelf.
“Go back to the bag.”
Turning, I was face to face with him, though had to peer up because he was so much taller. He caged me in for several seconds, his gaze all over my body and the thin nightwear I’d slept in. From being so close, his view was straight down my cleavage, our bodies almost touching.
I gulped. “I returned your hoodie to the bathroom. If you tell me where my dressing gown is, I’ll put that on so you don’t have to look at me.”
“Who says I don’t want to look?”
I flushed hot, but thankfully he gave me the space to return to the bed. Flustered, I hid my reaction to him by exploring my possessions as ordered.
Next from the bag was my underwear. A sheer bra and matching knickers with tiny floral detail and see-through panels which had no concealing features. Another two sets were in the same style. “Interesting choices.”
“Uncomfortable with what I picked?”
“I wouldn’t normally pair this kind of lingerie with business wear.”
“No? I’ll enjoy the idea of ye being in meetings with dull corporate wankers and having one of those slutty little numbers underneath your demure outfit.”
Slutty little numbers. My heartbeat quickened even more.
Something was happening between us. A rising tension I hadn’t expected. He was taunting me, and it was thrilling. Sex with him had been life-changing for me. I couldn’t even imagine what it would do to me now. How different he’d be.
My fingers trailed on something else in the bag. Then I froze.
Connor smirked. “Bring it out.”
I did, my cheeks flaming, but I didn’t want to back down from the provocation. “This wasn’t on my list.”
My vibrator. My only real outlet for the kinds of feelings he was generating, although nothing else came close to what he did to me.
“I’m surprised ye even own something like that.”
Oh, screw him. “If you keep me here long enough, you’ll get to see it in action, too.”
His smile dropped, and I internally cheered my tiny victory over him. Seems I wasn’t the only one who could get rattled. Connor pursed his lips then stood and casually reached back to pluck his shirt over his head in a fluid motion that revealed an expanse of flesh, covered in a myriad of tattoos.
Wide-eyed, I traced the inkwork. Skulls, flowers, and two crossed blades decorated his chest. On the backs of his hands were the Scottish flag, known as the Saltire, and a skeleton jaw on the other. More artwork disappeared under his waistband, and my curiosity spiked for wanting to see them all.
At sixteen, he’d had none of this, yet I didn’t mourn the covering of his beautiful flesh. He’d always wanted to hide the scars on his body, and now the job was complete.
“If you’re done drooling, I need a shower.”
His words pulled me back into myself.
“Do whatever you like,” I snapped back.
His gaze held mine, and something dark and needy passed between us.
“Ye really don’t want me to follow that order, temptress.”
God, I did. But at the same point, I’d never allow it. Nor would he. We’d been there, and all it caused was heartache. No matter the lingering attraction, we were grown adults who’d been burned, and I for one would never go back.
Or couldn’t. Not without repercussions I wasn’t willing to endure.